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Where has the time gone?? Imagine my surprise when I logged on and realized how much time had actually elapsed since my last post! I guess that’s why the saying “time flies” is a saying in the first place. I’ve been working on some exciting, yet involved projects. I also started doing readings which has been very exciting and rewarding, but I wanted to do more to help the people I’m called to serve. So, with that intention in mind I finally enrolled in a program to get my life coaching certification. All that said, a post was long overdue for this blog, and every one of you that show your support for me by reading it were always in my thoughts. 🙂

I published my last post at the end of January and before I knew it, February was in full swing. The month came and went as I handled client appointments, attended classes, created website content, researched material for my teleseminars, recorded meditations, and wrote posts for this blog and my website blog. All of this was done in my spare time (and I use that term very loosely) while working my “day” job, running my household, and caring for “the Hubs” and 3 kids. As mundane as the role of wife and mom may sound in comparison to mediumship and life coaching, I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

True to it’s name; March arrived and it’s cadence seemed swifter than ever, followed quickly by April. As I type; and likely before I’m ready, May will give way to June. That’s how it often goes for us down here on Earth as the sun predictably rises and sets, paying no attention to our ups and downs. The sun has always predictably shown up to bring me a new day; and a new chance for a fresh start, regardless of whether I chose to take it or not. Recent years have brought me some of my biggest challenges, and some of the most trying days I’ve ever experienced. There were days I looked up and saw that cheerful, warm sphere and swore it was there just to mock me.

This evening as the sun prepares to set like it has on countless others, I can’t help but feel deep gratitude for the sun’s persistent teasing. Because of its tenacity, I rose to greet those days. As simple as that may sound, it hasn’t always been easy. There were days I felt I couldn’t face, but on those days I got up and put my “big girl panties” on for 2 reasons: 1. A strong unwillingness to let the people I felt screwed me over in the past get one bit of satisfaction from my not doing it. 2. I had a responsibility to my husband and kids not to give up.

Sometimes we do things because we want to, and other times we do things because we have to. It’s when we don’t do the things that we want to because we are worried about others’ opinions or reactions that causes problems. I have lived my life based on other people’s expectations and you know what? It didn’t work. When you are living your life to please everyone else, you are not living your life. Eventually, it will come back to bite you. My choice of college, choice of degree, choice of religion, and even the place I chose to live were based upon my desire to please someone else. I hid from and denied my empathic and sensitive abilities most of my life out of fear of being judged. It’s one thing to keep going out of a sense of love and responsibility when you’re too weak to motivate yourself. It’s another thing entirely to live a life built completely on avoiding judgments and pleasing others. At what point is it okay to live your life according to your values and your standards? When is it okay to say, “It’s my life and I’ll live it how I like.” What are the clues that tell you it’s now okay to make your own choices? When exactly is ‘the right time’? It’s about time. Right now.

My family and I toughed it out through the holidays as best we could. Christmas Day came and we went to my Mom’s house for dinner. I was running late as I was waiting for the hand-made gifts I’d painted to dry. My showing up late set the day into a tailspin and dinner was the worst holiday dinner I’ve ever attended to date. My mom was understandably upset by my tardiness, as she was trying to get the meal on the table without it getting cold. I told her my reason for being late and she began with the questions. “Why did you wait til the last minute?” “Why did you procrastinate?” “Why didn’t you start earlier?” I couldn’t tell her why! Most of the reason was sitting right there! With the chaos going on in my home I barely had time to breathe let alone make gifts or shop. I decided that year that I was going to make a scrapbook of the trip I took with my mom to Italy 10 years prior. It was my first scrapbook project and it took me longer than I thought to complete since my Aunt was always trying to pull my attention away from whatever I was focused on and back on to her. My answer to my mom was a meek, “I didn’t procrastinate, Mom. You’ll see.”

My Mom and her best friend, Auntie, took turns taking pot shots, and pushing my buttons throughout the entire meal. Then they started on the kids. I’d been practicing being more assertive with the help of my life coach, and I remember thinking, “Ok, here goes.” I took a deep breath and looked at both of them and told them if they didn’t stop I was leaving. My Aunt told me I needed to get a thicker skin and shouldn’t be so sensitive. Not wanting to ruin dinner or make it any more awkward for my husband and kids than I was sure it already was, I set my fork down and walked outside to cool off. I couldn’t believe her gull. After all the drama she was causing at my house with her mood swings and extreme sensitivity to pretty much anything anyone said, I couldn’t believe she was being such a hypocrite!

In January, my Mom began having health issues. She’d been to several doctors and so far none of them had given her a definitive reason for her symptoms or a diagnosis. She had to resign from her job due to her symptoms and I was very worried about her. I felt she already had enough on her plate, so I made it a point not mention anything to her about the things going on at my house. Unfortunately, her best friend wasn’t as considerate.

My mom started to bring things up to me during our conversations that I knew I hadn’t mentioned. It wasn’t hard to figure out who had. The only difference between the things my Mom heard from Auntie and out-and-out lies, is they were based; however loosely, on actual events. My mom would ask me about something I’d supposedly said or done to my Aunt, and I’d spend the rest of the conversation angry and defending myself. I really had a hard time understanding how she could listen to the things my Aunt was telling her! After all, I am her daughter and she has lived next door to me for the past 7 years! I was raised by her! The morals and values I have are the same ones I have always had, and the ones that she raised me to have! She had seen my Aunt only once in that 7 years, and if it hadn’t been for me tracking her down, she probably still wouldn’t have spoken to her, let alone seen her. I felt she should know I wouldn’t do the things she was being told I had. Although it took a lot of self-discipline on my part, I kept the things my Mom told me to myself and didn’t say anything to my Aunt. I was on to her and I knew exactly what she was doing. I refused to allow her to get the drama she so obviously was trying to create. I did take mental note of the things she was telling my Mom and I built up a lot of bitterness and resentment toward her. I felt like she was purposely trying to destroy my relationship with my Mom and that on top of everything else did not sit well with me at all.

My mom would tell me to try to be understanding because my Aunt was “sick” and had Bipolar Disorder. I couldn’t help but get more and more frustrated and angry that Auntie wasn’t willing to be treated. She was causing so much turmoil in our lives. I knew that most of it would have been avoided altogether if she didn’t have the extreme mood swings. When I finally stopped censoring myself and started telling her exactly what I thought, things got worse. She became even more vindictive. She started to treat me and my family as if our sole purpose was to serve her and her needs.

Over the next couple of months she and I would engage in an emotional power struggle that would end up changing our relationship for good…

Before Auntie came, my missing income already had my husband and me on edge. After she arrived, I was in a constant state of overwhelm from the added stress she was creating in my home. Finally, in February, I landed a new job and was set to start the first week of March. I was extremely relieved at the prospect of having a decent income again, and to be honest, I was thrilled to be getting out of the house! I figured with me gone Monday through Friday, my Aunt and I would get along better. I thought maybe things were getting tense because we were spending too much time together. That might have been true for me, but not so much for Auntie. After I went back to work, her behavior became increasingly more erratic and irrational. I’d only been back to work a week when there was a major blowout. It soon was crystal clear to me that because she wasn’t getting the attention she was used to, she wasn’t above doing anything she could to get it back.

My two oldest kids were home each day with her after school until my husband and youngest daughter got home around 6 pm. Most days, I would get there about an hour after that. Those few hours my Aunt spent alone with the kids proved to be just enough time to stir up even more drama. Since she was helping out, my Aunt felt justified speaking her mind about everything from where I put my coffee cups to how I disciplined my kids. I would politely listen to what she had to say out of respect for her, but most times I didn’t agree with her point of view; especially when it came to my kids. When she took it upon herself to arrange my kitchen cupboards the way she thought they should be, I was irritated, but I let it go. I had learned by then that it was prudent to pick my battles. When she started giving my kids her own consequences after my husband and I had already handled things the way we thought appropriate, I wasn’t so willing to let it go. Now she was overstepping her boundaries and I was getting fed up.

Initially, when my Aunt told me things the kids did while she was watching them, I trusted her and took her at her word, and they were given consequences accordingly. They’d protest and argue, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I told them that my Aunt was an adult, and their dad and I entrusted them to her care when we were at work, which meant they were to respect her and do as they were told. It wasn’t until my 9-year-old son approached me and said, “Mom, Auntie is lying!” that I started to wonder what was going on. I thought at first it was normal kid stuff; testing boundaries, etc. Before she came to live with us, they had only met Auntie once. My son was too young then to remember her. I chalked it up to my kids resenting this person they barely knew telling them what to do; especially my oldest daughter, who was 16 and fought authority no matter where it came from! I attributed the difference in stories partly to my kids wanting to get out of consequences for their behavior and partly and to my Aunt’s poor short-term memory and hearing. I myself had experienced issues with my Aunt due to her not hearing half of what I said. She would interpret the missing parts herself instead of asking me to clarify, and she was always way off base. The short-term memory issue stemmed from the only medication she would take for her symptoms–Xanax. It is not normally prescribed for long-term treatment of Bipolar Disorder, and is known to cause people to be forgetful. I tried to tell her about it, I tried showing her research I found about it, but discussing her meds with her wasn’t worth the frustration. She had her view and no one was going to convince her otherwise. She was right; everyone else was wrong and didn’t know what they were talking about. No one was immune to her stubbornness or know-it-all attitude, not even her doctor.

My Aunt had that same hard-headed, stubborn attitude about pretty much everything. It was getting hard for me to be understanding, and even harder to bite my tongue. She’d lived with us for almost three months, and nothing was getting better. In fact, it was about to get much worse.

During the time I was dealing with losing my job and sorting out the issues with my friend, a family friend came back into my life. She and my mom had been friends since they were kids, I’d known her since birth, and we considered her family. I’d grown up calling her my Aunt, her children my cousins, and so on. She and I had always been close and I was very fond of her. She had always been a unique individual, free-spirited, or what my mother liked to call “flaky”. It wasn’t unusual for years to go by without hearing from her. I’d wonder how she was doing and would eventually track her down. I had done just that earlier that year in May, a couple of months before losing my job. We talked every few days from then on.

About a month later, I was talking to her during the hour-long drive home in the early morning hours from my ghost tour job in Saint Augustine. She confided in me that she was in a horrible living situation and desperate to get out, but had nowhere to go. I called her back the next day after talking it over with my husband and invited her to come stay with us. The plan was for her to stay as long as she needed until she had saved enough money to get her own place. I was excited to have her come and stay, but there was an uneasiness in my gut when I thought about it. Figuring it was just the idea of someone living with us causing it, I made the call anyway and brushed it off. Unfortunately, like so many times before when I ignored that inner voice; what I now call my soul voice, I made the wrong decision. I remembered her as a sweet, nurturing presence in my life when I was a kid, and as someone I could always talk to, no matter what. I felt my kids would benefit from her being around since I intended to return to work full-time when I found another job and she’d be there with them when I couldn’t be. They’d have another adult with a positive presence in their lives. She’d benefit by getting out of her current living situation and have a place to stay with people who loved and appreciated her, and she could save up the money to start over. She offered to help out with the kids, cooking, etc., in return for staying with us. I figured it was a win-win situation for all concerned.

She arrived December 1, 2012. She’d changed her name over the few years that passed from the last time I’d seen her until I tracked her down and called her in May. The day she arrived, she asked that we not call her by her former name. She reasoned that it bothered her because she’d been through hell and having coming out on the other side, she felt that person was long gone. In hindsight, I can see where the red flag should have gone up for me. After all, I’d known her all my life as that person. Chalking it up to one of her many eccentricities, I didn’t give it much thought at the time. It felt strange and awkward calling her by this new name, but wanting to respect her wishes, I compromised and just called her “Auntie.” I would find out her name wasn’t the only thing that had changed since I’d seen her last.

About a week later, I was on Facebook looking around and saw that my friend had posted some photos from her baby shower. I looked at the picture and it was a picture of her, me, and the other third that we had posed for right before the shower began. The caption read, “I would like to thank Jen and _____ for giving me my baby shower…” I honestly don’t remember the rest of it. I was the one who collaborated with my friend and her family to plan the shower. I was the one who spent the money on the decorations, the games, the prizes, all of it! The other third comes back into the country a week prior to the shower, brings a dish, and gets 1/2 the credit for myhard work?? I was seething! I’d suspected I was being used, and now after seeing that, I knew I had! I felt like I didn’t even know who this person was anymore! I did know that I couldn’t talk to her until I was calmer, and it took me a couple of months at least. During that time, if she called I would let it go to voice mail. I didn’t want to write her off just yet; I felt I at least owed it to her to tell her how I felt and give her a chance. I also knew that if I talked to her before I was ready, the conversation wouldn’t go well. I knew in my gut that she would turn the issue back onto me and make it about how I’m too sensitive or how I’d overreacted. As hurt and angry as I was, I didn’t want to end up saying things I didn’t mean or that I couldn’t take back. Several weeks later, my husband ran into her and she made a snide remark about me not returning her calls. When he mentioned it to me, l couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Although she was guilty of the same thing, when I brought it up to her, she told me to stop being so sensitive!

It was now December. Eight months had passed since the baby shower. In that time I’d gone to her home to see her baby, had a nice visit, and afterwards I decided again it was best to keep things to myself. I so desperately wanted to be wrong when it came to her! As usual, it would only be a matter of time before something else would happen to have me kicking myself for not speaking up when I had the chance…

I’d started to feel better about myself and working with my life coach, I was able to pin point why I felt the way I did. After releasing all of the negative energy from my work environment, I still felt burdened. My life coach asked me some very pointed questions, and while answering them I realized that I felt judged and mistreated; much the same way I felt when I was working for my previous employer. We talked about why I didn’t express how I felt to my friends. I told her that I really thought that if I told them I felt I had been mistreated, the friendships would end. Then she said something that really hit home, “If you truly feel that if you tell these women, who say they are your friends, how they’ve hurt you by belittling you and treating you as though your needs, wants, and feelings don’t matter; then are they really people you should call friends? Friends are the people in your life who support you, uplift you, and make you laugh when you really want to cry. I don’t see any of this for you with these women. When is the last time you actually felt happy, supported, or uplifted after spending time with them?” To tell the truth, I felt like shit more often than not afterwards. I had to admit, she made a good point. These “friendships”were nothing but struggle and emotional turmoil during a time in my life when I’d had enough of that without adding more fuel to the fire. Ultimately the question that needed to be answered was: why was I putting up with it?

I did take the time to self reflect. What behavior of mine could have caused this issue? Was there a pattern? Something I needed to change? Yes! I never said no. I’d wanted to at times, but just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I wanted to make people happy, even if that meant making myself miserable in the process. I’d been that way since I could remember. I had a very hard time with conflict and confrontation if I was defending myself. I had no problem with it if I was defending someone else. My feelings were just as important as anyone else’s; weren’t they? I promised myself that moving forward, I would start saying no if I wanted to say no and if something someone did or said upset me, I’d tell them. Have you ever made a decision that was fairly easy to make, but carrying it out was much more difficult? Me too.

There were two people in particular I knew I had to handle right off. Thinking back about it now, I can honestly say that I had allowed them both to bully me so much that they actually had me convinced that I was wrong to feel the way I did! When there were times I happened to disagree with them on something, they would tag team and take their turns making snide remarks and wise cracks disguised as playful teasing. They definitely took advantage of knowing how to get a rise out of me. Eventually one of them went out of the country for several months. During that time things seemed to improve. The other third of the trio did return; however, and I found myself right back where I started. The more time the two of them spent together, the more they began to act alike; like they’d both just stepped off the set of Mean Girls. Now I had a dilemma. I didn’t like how I felt when it was all three of us, but when the other third wasn’t around, things were fine. I didn’t feel I could bring the issue up just yet, so there was no more trio. When she was in the picture, I wasn’t, and that’s how it went for some time until I had no choice but to lay all of my cards out on the table…

At some point in our lives, we have probably all heard the phrase, “fair weather friends.” It refers to those people in your life who love to be around you when things are good and as soon as you show any sign that you might possibly need something from them they take the proverbial hike. They go MIA. They stop answering their phone. Things are going well for them, so you haven’t heard from them in…how long has it been? I wouldn’t have those kinds of friends, would I?

I have always been the person people knew they could go to in a crisis. If they called and were upset and hurting, I wouldn’t tell them they were intruding on the date night I’d finally managed to get a sitter for. I recall countless times being on the phone with this person, or that person for hours lending an ear, and sacrificing precious time with my husband and kids as a result. My husband would give me “the look.” It’s the look that I came to know as his, “You’re on the phone AGAIN,” look. There was another look he’d give me when he’d had enough of me being unavailable to the family due to some crisis someone else was having. Quality time for the two of us was scarce as it was, and I’d managed to spend most; if not all of it, on the phone consoling a friend or family member through yet another drama.

Digging deep and taking an honest look at my friendships wasn’t easy, and by doing so I noticed a disturbing fact. Many of those very same people I’d consistently sacrificed hours for weren’t there for me when the roles were reversed. Truthfully, it always bothered me that although I respected their time and took their feelings into consideration, I wasn’t given the same courtesy. When I needed emotional support or to talk about something that was upsetting me, the subject would get changed and I’d find myself engaged in another conversation about them. After a while, it got to the point where I’d call; no answer. I’d leave a message, they wouldn’t call back. At first it just seemed as if they were avoiding me; then I knew they were. If I got fed up enough to mention it, I was always brushed off. It made me feel like my expectations of my friends were unrealistic. “You’re so needy.” “You take everything way too personally.” “You’re too sensitive.” “I don’t understand why you let things bother you so much. You’re overreacting.” “You took it wrong.” “You’re so negative.” “If all you want to talk about is drama, I don’t have time for it. I’ve got enough going on in my life.” Those responses hurt. After all, aren’t your friends supposed to care about you? These were the same people I’d been there for over and over. Were there times when they called me to vent that I wanted to tell them their actions and choices caused the issues they were having? Of course there were! Did I actually do it? Of course not! Why? Because I cared enough about their feelings not to. I felt it wasn’t my place to judge or criticize them; only to be there for them. I started to see a pattern. As long as I didn’t assert myself, or call them out for their selfish behavior, everything was fine. As soon as I started to question their motives or actions, there was nothing but conflict. No matter what the situation, I was made wrong for allowing whatever it was to bother me. It became obvious to me that being right for them was more important than my feelings or anything else. Things got to the point that I decided it wasn’t worth saying anything at all. I’d just end up feeling like shit and nothing would get resolved anyway. It was easier to just avoid the entire issue altogether. So for months, that’s what I did.